


In which Tarvek has to tell

by Overlord_Bethany



Series: unreliable narrators [13]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Mid-Canon, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 20:26:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16205042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overlord_Bethany/pseuds/Overlord_Bethany
Summary: alternate title: In which Tarvek goes from Very Wise to Total Idiot in the space of about four seconds.





	In which Tarvek has to tell

Tarvek dropped into the chair beside Agatha and he frowned at the tabletop. He should tell her. He _needed_ to tell her. Withholding the truth from her was the only sure way to lose her.

The door opened, and the first trappings of breakfast arrived. The words dried up in his throat. Ah, yes, old habits from his school days in Paris. In this case, however, his silence would harm Gil instead of shielding him. Tarvek pounced upon the coffee tray, and he steeled himself for the most awkward conversation of his life.

“Ah, Agatha?”

Blithely unaware of his discomfort, she reached for the juice. “Yes?”

Tarvek decided to get it out at once, quickly, like lancing a wound. “IloveGiltoo,” he blurted. It hurt, giving the words voice. It felt as though he had ripped out a chunk of his heart and thrown it onto the table. When Agatha only arched a brow at him, he drew a shuddering breath, and he repeated, just above a whisper, “I love Gil, too.”

“Well, of course you do.” Agatha returned her attention to the juice carafe.

Tarvek gawked at her. “Now wait a minute!” he objected, irritation trampling the suffocating terror he had fought against mere moments earlier. He had just told his deepest, most cherished secret, and Agatha refused to indulge, nor even acknowledge, his internal strife. “What do you mean, _of course?_ ”

“The two of you weren’t exactly making a secret of your feelings toward each other in Mechanicsburg.” Agatha pursed her lips and flicked her fingernails against the sides of her glass. “But I wasn’t really _sure_ until after I’d fought with him on the roof.”

“Ah.” Tarvek looked down at the tabletop. He remembered the pain of that moment, the crushing despair, the realization that someone had done something unforgivable to Gil. Gil, his friend. Gil, his first love. Gil, the man who had helped him to become the sort of person Agatha might keep by her side.

Agatha’s hand closed over his. “It’s okay,” she said. “We’ll fix him.”

Tarvek met her earnest gaze. She exuded warmth and compassion, with an undercurrent of fiery vengeance, and Tarvek felt himself sinking in the weight of her stare, drowning, adoring her with every faltering breath. “Agatha, I…” _Kind of might have gotten betrothed to Gil because we’re both too stupid to flinch when charging toward each other._ Tarvek glanced down at their joined hands, and he drew breath to try again.

The door opened once more, and waitstaff streamed in bearing trays of foodstuffs, some delicious and some decidedly suspect. Tarvek withdrew to sulk over his coffee.

_Later_ , he promised himself. He would tell her later.


End file.
